


Unexpected Day at the Auction

by roymaster45



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Auction, Big Damn Heroes, Bondage, Cross-Post, Despair, Female Friendship, Gags, How Do I Tag, Kidnapping, Nipple Clamps, Partial Nudity, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:55:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22615993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roymaster45/pseuds/roymaster45
Summary: What should have been a slam-dunk rescue mission for Tracer and Mercy turns into a living nightmare.  (Cross-posting from DeviantArt.)
Kudos: 4





	1. The Cell

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: This story contains kidnapping, bondage/BDSM, nudity, and mild sexual content. If any of that bothers you, please do not read any further.
> 
> All characters are 18 and older, and belong to Activision-Blizzard.
> 
> PLEASE READ THE DISCLAIMER AT THE END BEFORE COMMENTING!

“Can you see them?”  
  
“Not yet. Gimme a sec, I’ll increase the mag on the binoculars,” Tracer muttered, her full concentration on the clearing below. “…Gotcha.”  
  
She handed the binoculars to Mercy, who shifted her perch on the tree branch slightly before gazing through the eyepiece. Sure enough, three men in expensive-looking suits were standing at one edge of the clearing, waiting patiently. Two of them had assault rifles, while the third — probably the leader — was holding a large briefcase. Angela flicked a switch and the view through the binoculars turned to X-ray, revealing that the case was stuffed to the brim with bills.  
  
“They’ve got the money.”  
  
“Now, what could a few blokes like you be doin’ with all that cash?” Tracer wondered aloud.  
  
It was a rhetorical question, of course. Just a few minutes later, there was a rustling in the trees, and three more people entered the opening. Two of them were men, one was a woman, and all three were dressed in safari clothes. The Swiss doctor felt her heart sink as one of the men yanked on the rope he was holding, and three young women suddenly stumbled into the clearing. They were all naked, with their arms bound behind them, burlap sacks over their heads, and a leash of rope connecting all three of them at the neck.  
  
The man with the briefcase glanced at them before turning his attention to their captors. “You weren’t followed?”  
  
“ _Non_ , of course not,” the woman replied in a thick French accent. “We are the very best; we never get followed.”  
  
“May I inspect them?”  
  
“ _Bien sûr._ ”  
  
The woman gestured to one of her colleagues, who dragged the helpless girls into the center of the clearing. One by one, he removed the sacks from their heads.  
  
Tracer scowled, and Mercy’s heart sank even further as she saw the tears on the girls’ faces. She had seen victims of domestic abuse and sexual assault in her hospitals before, and each time, she swore she would fight to make this a world where women never had to suffer such barbarism. To her mind, human trafficking like this was even worse — one of the most terrible fates imaginable. These young women wouldn’t just have one bad night or bad experience that haunted them for years to come… they were being bartered and sold, like common farm animals.  
  
_Stay focused. You and Tracer have a job to do_ , she thought to herself. She took a deep breath, then pressed another button on the binoculars several times. With each press, the device took a high-resolution photograph and sent it to a local law enforcement agency. She continued taking pictures as the man in the suit inspected their teeth, their breasts…  
  
Finally, he nodded in satisfaction. The man in the safari outfit yanked the bags back onto the girl’s heads and pulled them aside as the woman stepped forward. “Well?”  
  
The man held the briefcase up, undid the clasps, and opened it to reveal dozens of tightly bound stacks of Euros. The woman’s face lit up with a smile as Mercy took another series of photographs.  
  
“Got ‘em?” Tracer asked.  
  
Mercy glanced at the screen on the side of the binoculars — _transmission received_ — and nodded.  
  
“Brilliant,” Tracer continued with a smile. “All right, luv, let’s get down there and—“  
  
A quiet crack from behind them interrupted her. Mercy whirled around and saw that the branch they were sitting on, which had seemed so sturdy earlier, was suddenly starting to break.  
  
“Oh, _scheiße_ …”  
  
Before they could do anything, the branch tore away completely from the tree, sending them down to the ground with a loud crash. Mercy let out a low moan of pain, then quickly felt each of her limbs — nothing broken or sprained. She turned to see if her fellow agent was all right, but her attention was instead drawn to the men rushing over from the clearing.  
  
“Tracer, get up! We—“ was all she could shout before someone struck her in the back of the head with the butt of a rifle, knocking her out instantly.  
  
——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————  
  
Mercy groaned as she slowly began to come to. When she remembered exactly how she had fallen unconscious, a cold pit of dread formed in her stomach, and she willed herself to wake up more quickly. When she opened her eyes, that cold pit only grew.  
  
She couldn’t see anything, but she quickly realized that was due to the hood that completely covered her head; the only openings seemed to be for her ponytail and her mouth, which was currently covered with a piece of duct tape. Her wrists had been restrained with cold metal handcuffs and suspended from the ceiling. Her ankles were also chained together, albeit with just enough slack to awkwardly move them around; her bare feet rested against a smooth metal floor. Worst of all, she had been stripped completely naked.  
  
She screamed into her gag and struggled against her bonds, trying to escape her living hell. _This can’t be happening… this has to be a nightmare…_ Not only had she and Tracer failed to stop the trafficking ring, but now they were almost certainly going to be sold off themselves. The mere thought of it caused tears to well up in her eyes.  
  
Suddenly, the door opened. Mercy fell still and tried to blink her tears away as someone in heels approached her. A few seconds later, a soft hand gently peeled the tape off her mouth; she winced before licking her lips gratefully. A kind, motherly French voice said, “My name is Annette. If you keep calm and don’t squirm, I’ll try to make this as smooth and painless as possible. OK?”  
  
Mercy nodded and decided she needed to at least try to talk her way out of this. “Please, just let me and my friend go… we’ll pay you handsomely…”  
  
“I wish I could,” Annette sighed. “I have a daughter — Carol, fresh out of university. She is the most beautiful, most compassionate young lady I’ve ever known. They’ve had her in a holding cell for the past six months now. If I don’t do what they want, or if I cause trouble in any way… they will sell her at the auction, and… and I will never see her again…”  
  
Mercy felt a strong wave of sympathy wash over her as the woman stifled a sob. “I’m so sorry.”  
  
Annette sniffled, then continued, “Thank you… _d’accord_ , let’s get started. Birth date?”  
  
“December 25, 2039.”  
  
She heard Annette jot the date down on a pad of paper.  
  
“Height and weight?”  
  
“1.7 meters; 61.2 kilograms.”  
  
“Any food restrictions, allergies, severe health issues?”  
  
“Vegetarian. No allergies or health issues that I’m aware of.”  
  
More pencil scratches.  
  
“Are you a virgin?”  
  
Mercy felt herself go crimson at the question. “N-no…” she mumbled, trying not to let the fear in her voice show.  
  
Annette sighed. “It will be easier if you tell me the truth.”  
  
“All right, yes,” Mercy whispered, the tears from before now streaming down her face. There was a quiet tearing sound, and then she felt Annette wipe her eyes with a tissue; she mumbled a quiet “thank you”.  
  
“OK, I have to do a quick physical inspection. Let me know if I’m going too fast, oui?”  
  
She nodded, worrying what a “physical inspection” might entail. First, Annette used a tape measure to determine her bust, waist and hip measurements; Mercy’s blush deepened as the other woman’s latex-gloved fingers gently cupped her breasts. She then carefully inspected Mercy’s feet, running her fingers gently over the former doctor’s heels and toes looking for any kind of bruising. Mercy’s arms were granted a reprieve as Annette temporarily lowered them to repeat the process with her hands.  
  
“Open your mouth.” Mercy did so and felt her inspector gently run a finger over her teeth, humming softly all the while. Next, she knelt down behind the blonde captive, placed one hand on her ass, and carefully inserted a finger inside of her. Mercy yelped, feeling her whole face turn beet red.  
  
“I’m sorry, I have to do this,” Annette sighed. “I’ll try to make it quick.”  
  
She gently pumped her finger back and forth a few times, trying to make it as comfortable for Mercy as possible. Finally, she switched to the front and repeated the process with Mercy’s vagina; the Swiss doctor let out a small moan as her core was stimulated, hating herself for it the second the noise escaped her lips.  
  
Eventually, Annette stood back up and (judging by the snapping sound) pulled off her gloves to discard them in the trash. She jotted down a few more notes on her pad: “Teeth are in excellent condition; breasts… rectal cavity… vagina… seem to be in normal health…”  
  
After a few seconds, Annette clicked her pen and continued, “OK, that’s everything. Someone will be here in a few hours to prepare you for the auction… again, I am truly sorry.”  
  
The door opened and closed, leaving Mercy alone once more. Her breath came in short, nervous spurts, and her heart had sunken so low she was amazed it hadn’t dropped out of her stomach. She weakly struggled against the cuffs on her wrists again, but they simply would not budge. Her head dropped in defeat as she realized that there was no way out of this.  
  
A few hours later, she heard the door creak open again. A rough, leathery hand grabbed the bondage hood and pulled it off; Mercy winced as her eyes were flooded with light. Blinking and looking around, she saw that she was standing in a small, empty room — no more than 5 feet per side. The new arrival was a muscular man in a black shirt and pants, both intimidating and very clearly bored with this whole process.  
  
He reached up, grabbed her wrists, and pulled them off the hook they had been suspended from. As she flexed her fingers gratefully, he held out a glass containing a thick brown liquid. “Drink.”  
  
Mercy swished the drink around a little, then looked up at him suspiciously. He sighed and added, “It’s a protein shake. It’ll keep your energy up for the rest of the day.”  
  
Deciding that this torture was bad enough without starving herself, the former medic lifted the glass to her lips and began to drink. It didn’t taste particularly good, but she did feel a little more energized. As her hunger was sated, so too was her hopelessness — no matter how awful things looked, maybe help would come in the end.  
  
Once she was done, the guard took the glass and set it on the floor, before handing her a small duffel bag. “Put these on and be quick about it.”  
  
Mercy knelt down, unzipped the bag, and looked inside. There wasn’t a whole lot, and what she saw didn’t exactly make her feel better. First was a skimpy black thong, which looked like it would do the bare minimum to cover her privates. She couldn’t even figure out how to pull it on past her ankle cuffs, until she realized there were small strings that allowed her to untie it and then retie it around her waist. After a couple minutes of struggling, she got it on and pulled out the next item — her halo. Her mouth curled in disgust at the sick joke, but she knew it was pointless to refuse, so she picked it up and gingerly placed it on her head.  
  
The third item was a black collar with a small metal ring on the front. She hated the implications of putting it on; she didn’t have a choice, however, so she placed it against her neck and tightened the strap on the back. The fourth item in the bag was rather confusing: just two small metal clamps, with a chain between them. She turned them over and over in her hands, trying to figure out what they were for.  
  
“They’re called nipple clamps,” the guard finally explained, an exasperated frown settling on his face. “They go on your tits.”  
  
Her cheeks turned scarlet at the idea. _Really? It’s not just enough for me to be naked, I have to be… adorned… with these ridiculous things?_ She looked up at him and shook her head no. His frown darkened as he continued, “You can put them on yourself, or I can put them on for you. But they’re going on.”  
  
Mercy tried to think of a way around this, but finally sighed in defeat. Her fingers trembled as she lifted the first clamp to her left breast and squeezed it open. She placed the cool metal against her skin, hesitated… then let the clamp shut. A sharp gasp of pain escaped from between her lips as the cruel device clamped around her nipple, sending an excruciating jolt through her nerves. She repeated the process with the second clamp, unable to stop herself from gasping again.  
  
The chain between the clamps rustled quietly as she knelt back down to the bag, pulling it open wider with shaking hands. The fifth and final item was also confusing. It had a buckle that was obviously meant to tighten around some part of her body, but the “body” of the item just consisted of a black rubber panel with a protrusion on one side.  
  
As she stood up and wrinkled her brow in confusion, the guard tapped the protrusion. “This part goes in your mouth.”  
  
Mercy’s cheeks turned a deeper shade of red at that, more so than she ever would have thought possible. When would the humiliation _end_?!  
  
“Again, you can put it on yourself, or…”  
  
After a long period of hesitation, during which she gathered up all the resolve she could, Mercy opened her mouth and pushed the gag inside. Almost immediately she made a choking noise — the abhorrent device was so large that it just slightly hit the back of her throat. Unbidden memories of the first (and only) time she had ever given a blowjob, over a decade ago, floated to the front of her mind; she tried to push the thought away, which was easier said than done given her current predicament. She bit down on the gag to keep it in place, then reached behind her head and tightened the strap until it was comfortably snug against her scalp.  
  
As she stood there — nearly naked, pain stinging her nipples, a phallic toy filling her mouth — she felt a sense of shame and disgust wash over her. It was terrible enough that she and Tracer were being sold off as (likely) sex slaves, but her captors had to make it even worse by dressing her up like a beaten, degraded version of her former self. The only relief she felt came from the knowledge that she would never appear on the news like this. If her family or her friends saw her like this… she didn’t know how she would live with the humiliation.  
  
The guard’s face remained shrouded in indifference as he pulled a leash out from behind his back. He attached one end to Mercy’s collar, tightened his grip on the other end, and gave her a firm tug while opening the cell door. “Come on, let’s go.”  
  
———————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————  
  
DISCLAIMER: As a reminder to everyone reading this, I would like to point out that this story is a work of fiction and does not reflect my perception of, or views on, real life in any way. While I and/or many other users on this site may fantasize about situations such as the above, they should remain just that - fantasy.  
  
It is my firm belief that bondage and BDSM should only be practiced between two or more consenting individuals in a safe, responsible manner, and that such activities should never be forced upon someone or practiced in a dangerous/irresponsible manner.  
  
Furthermore, I think it goes without saying that real-life kidnapping, sex trafficking, and slavery should not be condoned, supported, or committed by anyone under any circumstances.  
  
Thank you for your understanding.


	2. The Auction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: This story contains kidnapping, bondage/BDSM, nudity, and mild sexual content. If any of that bothers you, please do not read any further.
> 
> All characters are 18 and older, and belong to Activision-Blizzard.
> 
> PLEASE READ THE DISCLAIMER AT THE END BEFORE COMMENTING!

The hallway was just as cold as the room, with harsh light emanating from the fluorescent fixtures overhead. The only sounds the Swedish woman could hear were her muffled breaths and the thud of her escort's boots against the metal floor. After just a few minutes of walking, they rounded the corner into an enormous room.  
  
The building must have formerly been a warehouse, she speculated. The only windows in the room were set high up near the ceiling, and there were all kinds of tattered mechanical posters on the walls. Two-thirds of the chamber was occupied by simple metal folding chairs. Most of these had already been filled by bidders, and more were entering the room through the metal stairways at the other side of the room.  
  
Angela felt her blood boil at the sight of the haughty, immaculately-dressed men and women who would soon be offering money for the right to her body. Who did these people think they were? She was a human being, with every right to her freedom! These… these degenerates had no legal or moral authority to lead her around on a chain, displaying her and subjecting her to every depraved act they could imagine.  
  
She turned to look at the remaining third of the chamber, and her anger turned to despair. There was a simple stage set up, with about twenty columns near the back and another positioned closer to the audience. Each column — with one exception — had a captive young woman chained to it. They were a wide variety of races, heights, and body types, but everyone had two things in common: they were gagged and almost completely naked.  
  
The guard pulled on her chain, dragging her up the stairs and across the stage. To her surprise, Widowmaker and Sombra were also present, chained up side-by-side. The French assassin still had her visor on, standing in stark contrast to her purple panties, red ball gag, and otherwise nude body. From the look on her face, it was hard to tell whether she was more angry or humiliated. Sombra, on the other hand, was just plain terrified. She was clad in a pink thong and seemed to have the same kind of gag as Mercy; her eyes were red and her cheeks were streaked with tears.  
  
Mercy felt tears well up in her own eyes as her gaze drifted from the Mexican hacker to her closest friend. Tracer was rattling her cuffs like crazy, trying to break free, but it was useless. Just like everyone else, she was naked except a orange pair of boy-shorts, a set of nipple clamps, and a white ring-gag; a thin stream of drool dribbled from her lower lip onto the floor. Through the familiar goggles, she could see the despair on Tracer’s face. Somehow, this one look alone — the most optimistic person she knew, reduced to a state of humiliated hopelessness — broke Mercy’s spirit more than anything else that had happened today.  
  
She tried to mumble some comforting phrase to Tracer, but the guard was already dragging her to the next column… the only one that had been unoccupied. He yanked her arms up and hung her wrists on a little hook **,** making sure to coil up her leash and hang it from a similar hook. His job done, the guard took one last look at her body — his lips curling into a slight smile — before walking off.  
  
Before Mercy had a second to process the emotions rushing through her mind, a man in a suit came onto the stage, accepting the applause of the audience with a wave and a smile. She recognized him; it was the leader of the three buyers that she and Tracer had followed to the jungle. As the applause died down, his smile widened. “Welcome, everyone, to the monthly auction! We’ve got a great lineup of lovely young ladiestoday, including a few surprises that I’m sure you’ll all recognize. As always, our assistants have extra copies of the program, should you need one. We accept any kind of payment except checks.”  
  
The auctioneer walked back to the lineup and grabbed the last person at Mercy’s end — a pale-skinned woman with fiery locks of hair. She couldn’t be any older than 19, Mercy thought to herself sadly. There were tears streaming down her face as the girl was dragged to the “display” column and hung up once more. The man in the suit gestured to various parts of her body as he gave an introduction: “First up, we have the lovely Miss Bakos Lilla! This little redhead was a football player at the Royal University in Budapest, so she’s certainly got the fitness for all kinds of activities. Look at those bright green eyes, those perky breasts… and she turned 20 just a few days ago! What a birthday surprise, am I right?”  
  
The audience laughed, and he continued, “Let’s start the bidding at 10,000 Euros. Do I hear a higher bid?”  
  
Instantly, several bidders raised their hand and shouted out their offers.  
  
“15,000!”  
  
“20,000!”  
  
“22,000!”  
  
Eventually, Lilla was sold for 32,500 Euros to a man who looked old enough to be her father. Her muffled sobs were now quieted to a whimper as one of the guards took her off stage and led her towards the “payment station” in the back corner of the room, while the auctioneer was already pulling the next girl out for display. Mercy half-heartedly struggled against her restraints, but there was barely any point. _There’s no escape_ , she thought to herself. _We’re going to be slaves for as long as our buyer enjoys us… oh, my dear Tracer…_  
  
After about half an hour, It was her turn. The auctioneer pulled her up to the front of the stage, where she heard an appreciative murmur spread through the crowd. The way their hungry eyes roamed over every inch of her body made her skin crawl, and she wished for the hundredth time that this was all just a bad dream.  
  
“And now, for our first big ‘surprise’ of the day, it is my great pleasure to present Dr. Angela Ziegler, better known as Mercy!” the auctioneer declared. “This gorgeous Swiss medic was one of the heroes of Overwatch; now, for a reasonable price, she will be the personal property of one lucky bidder here. Her body is an absolute treat to play with or look at, and she’s one of the few virgins we have here, so I’m sure it’ll be very enjoyable to pop her cherry. And of course, she’s a wonderful status symbol — how many people you know can say they OWN a member of Overwatch or Talon?”  
  
Mercy closed her eyes, trying to shut out the sight of the auction chamber. She couldn’t shut out the sound of the auctioneer’s voice, though: “For this very special slave, I think we should start the bidding at 50,000 Euros. Do I hear—“  
  
Before he could even finish, the bidders started shouting, their voices overlapping and drowning each other out until a few clear competitors emerged.  
  
“100,000!”  
  
“120,000!”  
  
“140,000!”  
  
“…150,000!”  
  
“…160,000…?”  
  
Wait. Was it just her imagination, or did she hear faint gunshot noises between some of the bids?  
  
Mercy opened her eyes again. Some of the bidders were still shouting out offers, but much more hesitantly than before. The rest of them were looking around in confusion. The gunshot noises were getting closer, and she could even hear one or two dull thuds. The auctioneer looked concerned as he continued, “The current bid is 175,000… do I hear 176,000?”  
  
“Don’t you hear that?” a woman in the front row asked.  
  
Suddenly, everyone heard a thud much closer than before. After a few seconds, the auctioneer chuckled nervously and replied, “It’s probably just the air ducts or something. Now, do I hear—“  
  
Before he could finish, the double-doors at the top of the stairs burst open. Reaper, Soldier 76, and Moira O’Deorain burst into the room, their weapons primed and at the ready. Reaper fired a couple shots into the air and ordered, “Everybody _freeze_!”  
  
Mercy felt her heart bursting with joy, but the relief was short-lived. The auctioneer — evidently more capable in a fight than he appeared — pulled out a laser pistol and pressed it against her temple. She froze as the man shouted, “No sudden moves or this bitch gets a hole in her brain!”  
  
“OK! OK,” Soldier 76 said quickly **,** slowly putting his free hand up and pointing his gun towards the ceiling. “I’m going to put my weapon down now… I promise I won’t do anything stupid.”  
  
All eyes were on him as he slowly knelt down and dropped his assault rifle to the catwalk. He stood back up, his hands still in the air. The auctioneer smirked in success, but kept his gun trained on Mercy.  
  
Out of nowhere, Moira cocked her head to one side, as if she had heard something. A few seconds later, she gave a simple order: “Do it.”  
  
Everyone jumped at the sound of glass shattering as something punctured the windows up above, followed half a second later by the booming clap of a gunshot. Mercy shrieked into her gag, but relaxed when she realized nothing had happened to her. The same could not be said for the auctioneer, though — he spun around and collapsed to the floor, blood already beginning to spurt from the hole in his head.  
  
The audience members began panicking, then quickly fell silent as Reaper fired his shotguns into the air again. “All of you, SHUT UP! _NOW_!”  
  
A smug grin graced Moira’s lips. She pulled an earpiece out of her ear, pressed a button, and held it up; soon, the calm but deadly voice of Ana filled the chamber. “I’m positioned half a mile away with a clear shot at 80% of the auction chamber. If anyone tries to leave, or harm any of the captives, I promise you will be joining the auctioneer very soon.”  
  
Soldier 76 leapt over the catwalk handrail and landed on the floor below. Everyone stared at him in a mixture of fear and awe as he strode through the audience, his assault rifle on one shoulder and a large duffel bag in his other hand. In just ten seconds, he had reached the stage and was standing in front of Mercy.  
  
“Come on, Angela. Let’s get you all out of here,” he said softly.  
  
He lifted her hands off the column’s hook, then removed the cuffs on her wrists. As he did the same with her ankles, she undid her collar, pulled off her nipple clamps, and yanked out her gag — throwing them all to the side. Her lips curved up into a weary smile as she whispered, “Thank you, Jack… thank you so much…”  
  
He stood up and started to say something, but she interrupted him by throwing her arms around him in a tight hug. He stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do, before gently returning the embrace.  
  
“Come on, we’ve still got a lot to do. Put this on,” he sighed after a few seconds. She took the long white robe that he pulled out of his bag and donned it, as he moved to the back of the stage to free everyone else. All the while, local law enforcement officials began streaming through the doors and down the stairs, helping Moira to arrest people and free the girls that had already been sold.  
  
A few hours later, after everything had been sorted out, Mercy took a deep breath of fresh air as she, Tracer, Widowmaker, and Sombra walked out of the building with their rescuers. Tracer and Sombra were both surprisingly quiet, so Mercy turned to Widowmaker and asked the one question that had been on her mind for a while: “How did the two of you get tangled up in this? Did you try to sell them some girls and the deal went south?”  
  
“Of course not,” the former Amelie Lecroix replied disdainfully. “Sombra found out about their operation and we tried to blackmail them. Unfortunately, we underestimated how dedicated they were to acquiring new… merchandise.”  
  
“While forming a plan to rescue our operatives, we discovered that Overwatch had the same problem,” Moira added. “The four of us decided to go against our orders slightly and work together on this.”  
  
Soon, they all stepped into a clearing where two jets were waiting — one belonging to Overwatch, with Ana already in the pilot’s seat, and the other marked with Talon’s insignia. Reaper turned to Soldier 76 and growled, “This never happened. Understood?”  
  
“Of course,” he replied.  
  
Their temporary alliance concluded, the two groups turned and walked towards their respective vehicles.  
  
“Angela?”  
  
Mercy turned, surprised, to see Moira staring back at them. “Take care of yourself.”  
  
“…you too, Moira.”  
  
With that, she and Tracer followed Soldier 76 into the jet. As the doors closed and everything lifted off the ground, he pointed them to the back of the plane. “There’s some rooms back there where you two can put your feet up. We’ll save the debriefing for when we get back to Gibraltar.”  
  
“Of course. Thank you again, Jack.”  
  
He nodded and walked towards the cockpit. Mercy turned to look at her fellow agent, who had barely said a word. “Are you OK, Lena?”  
  
Tracer nodded slightly.  
  
“Well, we should get some rest. I’ll be right next door if you need anything, all right?”  
  
“Sure.”  
  
Mercy stepped into the room on the left and closed the door behind her. It was simple — just a bed and a bathroom — but compared to her quarters from earlier in the day, it looked absolutely heavenly. She used her hands to drink some water from the sink, then lied down on the bed and closed her eyes.  
  
Just a few seconds later, however, someone knocked at the door.  
  
“Come in.”  
  
The door slid open to reveal Tracer. She had removed her goggles, and there were tears in her eyes. “Angela, I— I…”  
  
“Oh, Lena… come here, darling,” Mercy sighed, feeling her heart break as she stood up. Her friend rushed forward and they threw their arms around each other in a tight hug. Tracer sniffled, then sobbed, “I was so scared, luv… I wanted to fight ‘em, and I just… I just couldn’t…”  
  
“Shhh… it’s OK, _liebling_. It’s all over… we’re safe now.”  
  
Finally, Lena wiped her eyes and whispered, “Can I sit with you until we get back? I don’t wanna be alone right now.”  
  
“Of course. You never have to be alone if you don’t want to — not while I’m around.”  
  
The two of them sat down on the bed together, holding each other as close as they could. Before long, they had both drifted off to sleep, Lena nestled comfortably in Angela’s protective embrace.  
  
——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————  
  
DISCLAIMER: As a reminder to everyone reading this, I would like to point out that this story is a work of fiction and does not reflect my perception of, or views on, real life in any way. While I and/or many other users on this site may fantasize about situations such as the above, they should remain just that - fantasy.  
  
It is my firm belief that bondage and BDSM should only be practiced between two or more consenting individuals in a safe, responsible manner, and that such activities should never be forced upon someone or practiced in a dangerous/irresponsible manner.  
  
Furthermore, I think it goes without saying that real-life kidnapping, sex trafficking, and slavery should not be condoned, supported, or committed by anyone under any circumstances.  
  
Thank you for your understanding.

**Author's Note:**

> So, yeah. I posted this on DeviantArt quite a while ago, but never got around to putting it up here. Figured I might as well since I don't have any other stories close to completing at the moment.
> 
> Hope you all enjoy it! As always, any comments or (constructive) criticism on what you liked or what you thought could use some work are greatly appreciated :)


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